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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27394519">America, A Working Title</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Panda/pseuds/Captain_Panda'>Captain_Panda</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Needs a Hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:15:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,949</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27394519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Panda/pseuds/Captain_Panda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>President Ellis' two terms are up, and Tony Stark isn't about to miss the race to see who replaces him.</p><p>The only trouble is, it's a bit prolonged. An election blues' fic with only fictional political parties involved.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>America, A Working Title</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*rings bell* Anybody call for an . . . </p><p>Aw, who am I kidding, this one's on the house. </p><p>-Cap'n Panda</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Steve, the world is on fire.”</p><p>Steve flicked off the T.V. with the remote and warned, “Tony.”</p><p>Jittery hand supporting his latest cup of coffee, Tony flicked the T.V. back on manually, a mulish bent to his brow.  “No quitters.  We will not <em>rest </em>until we have a winner,” he grumbled.</p><p>Steve turned the T.V. off.  Again.  <em>Jerk</em>.  “Bedtime,” Steve insisted.</p><p>“How old are we?” Tony retorted.  He flicked the T.V. back on.  “Oh, oh, good, <em>look who’s leading in Massachusetts</em>.”  He set his coffee on the nearest hard surface and flopped facedown on the bed in despair.  “Steven, this is—”</p><p>“Tony.  We voted.  Now all we can do is wait.”</p><p>Groaning, Tony muffled against the bed, “You don’t understand, I have to <em>deal </em>with this person.  In person.  <em>You </em>have to deal with this person, in person,” he reminded, pointing an accusing finger in Steve’s probable direction.  “For four years.  This is a four-year contract, and we can’t even parlay the terms.”</p><p>“Well,” Steve began patiently, but Tony snapped:</p><p>“<em>I know we can impeach them</em>.  But they have to <em>do </em>something wrong,” he sighed, rolling onto his side to glare at the T.V. screen and search for his coffee.  Steve had removed his coffee from easy reach, placing it on the desk in the far corner of the room.  “I will fight you,” Tony warned gravely.  “I will—<em>destroy </em>you.  Get Ellis on the horn.”</p><p>“Tony, he’s back home for the night,” Steve said plainly.  “I am not calling—”</p><p>Tony mimed speaking into his phone: “Hi, is this Mrs. Ellis?  Is that dashing young husband of yours around?”</p><p>Steve went to snatch the phone from Tony, and Tony struck: dropping the unneeded phone, he wrapped both arms around Steve’s neck and said triumphantly, “Hah!  I <em>win</em>.”  Then, groaning, he said, “Oh, God, I just remembered the fate of our country lies in the balance—”</p><p>Steve said, “That’s what a soothing <em>bath</em> is for.”</p><p>“What am I, five?” Tony grunted, curling himself against Steve’s chest like an angry raccoon.  “Nobody takes baths, we hose down in the mud twice a year like <em>men</em>.  Who’s winning Vermont?  <em>Did Vermont fucking flip</em>—”</p><p>“It’s three votes, Tony,” Steve said wearily.  “Three.”</p><p>Snarling, Tony said, “<em>Get me on the horn</em>, I am revoking Vermont’s statehood.”</p><p>“They’re <em>reporting sixty percent</em>,” Steve said, sounding vaguely exasperated.  “I think she’s gonna flip by the end of the night, Tony.”</p><p>“They <em>better</em>,” Tony snapped back.  “I want more coffee.  Where the hell is my coffee?”  He pried himself loose, only for Steve to capture him, reminding Tony:</p><p>“We have six a.m. meetings, Tony.”</p><p>“Maybe <em>you</em> do,” Tony grunted.  “Good.  <em>Virginia</em>.  My beloved <em>Virginia </em>still has its head on its—<em>NO!</em>” he howled, as swing state Ohio abruptly shifted from neon purple to mossy <em>green</em>.  “<em>God DAMMIT</em>.”</p><p>“What?” Steve asked, genuinely confused but still holding on, preventing Tony from chucking the hotel T.V. out the large glass windows onto the ground, twenty-four stories below.</p><p>“<em>Fuck!</em>” Tony snapped.  “That’s the <em>fourth one, Steve!  We can’t</em>—”</p><p>“Fourth <em>what</em>?” Steve insisted.</p><p>“<em>Swing state, you idiot!</em>”</p><p>Steve’s gaze ping-ponged comically between the seven swing states on the live feed, eventually stating, “Nobody in the Rust Belt is over thirty percent reporting, Tony—”</p><p>“<em>Fuck </em>you, Ohio!” Tony told the T.V. anyway, chucking a shoe at it for good measure.  “Kiss my—”</p><p>The landline rang.  Steve released Tony to answer it, then frowned and asked it, “Who’s complaining?”</p><p>Tony had almost uprooted the T.V. from its slanderous post when a slightly bewildered Steve hung up and reported, “We got a noise complaint.  Can you believe that?  What the hell is a <em>noise complaint?</em>”</p><p>Instantly changing gears, Tony rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt, ripping off his jacket in three frantic jerks.  “<em>Fuck </em>yes, point me, I’m so ready to get in a fistfight—”</p><p>“We will <em>not</em> be <em>resorting</em> to <em>violence</em>,” Steve told him, more on principle than understanding, expression still bewildered.  “<em>Noise </em>complaint.  What, talkin’s illegal now?”</p><p>Tony pointed at the T.V., outlining the green states and saying, “It <em>will be</em>.”</p><p>“Well, that won’t stand,” Steve said, finally on the same page.  “That won’t stand at all.  This is America.”  He picked up the landline to call back, then hung up and said firmly, “I’m gonna go have a talk.”</p><p>“Now, hold on a second,” Tony said.  “Whatever happened to the two Muskateers?  You can’t leave me.”</p><p>“Our rights are bein’ infringed upon as Americans, Tony,” Steve replied seriously, sliding his shield onto his arm.  “I can’t let that lie.”</p><p>“But—”  Poking the map of the United States of America on screen, Tony declared, “<em>Illinois</em> needs you.”</p><p>“I think it can survive for five minutes,” Steve assured, walking out.</p><p>Tony debated following him, then looked at the T.V. and found himself staring, entranced, at the impossible.  “Is that <em>mango?</em>”</p><p>It was—New Jersey, briefly fed up with the alternatives, had given up on its purple and green competitors and gone full third-party <em>mango</em>.  “Heh.  That’s—Steve, look,” Tony said, forgetting that he was alone, both hands pressed against the T.V. screen.  The election was a <em>zoo</em>; of course Jersey had to pull a fast one.</p><p>“<em>Steve</em>,” Tony insisted.  “Jersey went mango.  You gotta see this—”  Then he remembered that Captain America was downstairs terrorizing the front desk over a law that had been ratified in the seventies.  A snicker slipped past him despite himself.</p><p>He finally had the foresight to take a picture of the T.V. screen, just before Jersey flipped back to green.  “Aw, I was rooting for you,” Tony admitted.</p><p>The door opened, and Tony turned immediately, saying, “Oh, hey, you’re back, you missed it, Jersey went <em>mango</em>—”</p><p>“<em>Noise </em>is unlawful,” Steve replied, fuming visibly.  “Can you <em>believe </em>that?  Making sounds is <em>unlawful</em>.  What in the <em>world </em>has this country come to?”</p><p>Startled out of his own election funk, Tony said meekly, “Well.  Only <em>loud </em>noise—”</p><p>“<em>Loud</em> noise?” Steve repeated emphatically.  “What about—<em>megaphones?</em>”  Shaking his head, he sat on the edge of the bed and demanded peevishly, “Who’s winning?”</p><p>“Richard Harambe.”</p><p>“God dammit,” Steve said, like it was his press statement against terrorism, that emphatic.</p><p>Delighted by the shift in events, Tony offered, “How about a beer?”</p><p>Steve slanted a look at him that said, <em>Do I look like a beer kind of guy?</em>  Then, with infinite weariness, he stood.  “All right.”</p><p>. o .</p><p>Tony considered himself a man of the people, but it was still shockingly intimate to mingle with people who considered Iron Man a valid candidate for President on <em>election night</em>. </p><p>The six or seven people that had filled out the three available spaces next to him seemed to be speaking largely simultaneously. </p><p>While Tony often welcomed enthusiastic conversational partners, he opted to let <em>them </em>do the talking, embodying a living statue as he sipped a whiskey and let his big scary boyfriend block a third of Tony’s body with his own.</p><p>On multiple screens around the bar, there were polling results.  There was truly no escape from it, Tony thought.  It was late enough he had eclipsed tired and walked straight into, <em>I’ll just die in forty-eight hours</em>, territory.  Richard Harambe had nearly 0.05% of the vote, he saw on a reel, and smiled behind his glass.</p><p>Let the little parties have their fun, Tony would have said, if he had bothered to open his mouth and offer his opinion to the blue- and white-collar Americans clamoring around him, offering their own opinions and refutations.</p><p>No person in the United States had more weight on the world stage than the President.  While it would be a headache to negotiate with the green party’s candidate, it would be strange, too, to shake hands with the purple party candidate, to look at a new person filling the most important office in the country.</p><p>Michael Ellis had never taken a shine to Tony Stark politically, but he <em>had</em> been gracious when Tony had most needed it.  Tony had even met the man’s prized <em>hounds.  </em>An attachment had formed between Tony and the Ellis family, and the idea of never asking a big favor of them again was oddly sad to Tony.</p><p><em>Welcome back to the everyday</em>, Tony mused, flicking his gaze at the screen but a little too fuzzy around the edges to read it.  He tapped the bar for a refill; the bartender obliged.  Steve was paying attention to him but also busy listening intently to all seven speakers as they shouldered each other for the spotlight, eager to incorporate Steve into their party and hear <em>his</em> thoughts, which he gave in measured strokes.</p><p>In many ways, Steve was like a modern day George Washington: larger than life, a patriot to the bone.  He radiated the settled feeling of knowing everything, the country’s future, the country’s landmark past.  He seemed to perceive the country’s best interests on an almost cosmic level, yet had a groundedness to him that felt suitable for fixing up tractors on the road.  He was the ultimate man of the people, and people <em>listened </em>to him.</p><p>Tony quickly—and not unthankfully—found himself in the shadows, lost to the magnetism that was Captain America, speaking.</p><p>Someone inevitably brought up the Captain America Candidacy Question, but Steve shut it down smoothly, insisting: “I can’t do two big jobs simultaneously.  I can protect the people as an Avenger, but I can’t be an Avenger as the President.”</p><p>And that was the reality that drew Steve away from even the idea—he couldn’t moonlight as Captain America, the super-fighter, while doing his day job as the perfectly law-abiding super-citizen.</p><p>Tony would be left with the mess, and it wouldn’t be pretty.  Things were better as they were—floating along the sidelines, hoping for the best.</p><p>Hoping for the best, Tony thought, swirling his empty glass, letting his gaze settle on the nearest T.V. again.  Most of the swing states were up in the air, while anticipated results streamed in from respective purple and green states. </p><p>Tony knew they should go to bed soon.  They <em>did </em>have early meetings—the American people often turned to their favorite rogues whenever the strain of mainstream politics got too dire—but he chose to linger with Steve for a while longer, enjoying not having to decide to stay awake or fall asleep but simply <em>be</em>.</p><p>It would—it <em>had </em>to be okay, Tony decided.  Even if the winner was the most difficult guy he’d ever worked with, he’d find a way to work it out.  Who knew: maybe, just maybe, he would luck out, and it would be an unexpectedly good partnership.</p><p>. o .</p><p>Flopping back onto the hotel bed, Tony let out a gusty sigh and decreed in a slow voice, “Our country is on fire, Steve.”</p><p>Steve flopped down next to him.  “S’what they made fire extinguishers for, Tony,” he said.  “Go to sleep.”</p><p>With a huge yawn, Tony replied, “That doesn’t even make sense,” and rolled over to bury himself under Steve’s arm.  “Is Ohio still green?  Tell me it’s not—”</p><p>“Shhhh,” Steve insisted, one hand curving against his head.  “Go to sleep.  Early morning, remember?”</p><p>Grumbling, Tony kicked Steve lightly in the leg and warned, “I’m holding you accountable for Ohio’s actions.”</p><p>“Okay,” Steve said breezily.</p><p>“<em>Solely </em>accountable,” Tony warned, eyes shut.  “You give those bastards what-for—”</p><p>“I love you, Tony.”</p><p>Quieted, Tony said, “I’ll love you 3,000 if we win Ohio.”</p><p>Chuckling, Steve said, “That is accountable.”</p><p>Smiling a little despite himself, Tony said nothing—confident that no matter which way <em>Ohio</em> swung, he would love Steve Rogers, all the same.</p>
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